


You know nothing, Otabek Altin

by onotherflights



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Body Worship, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, boyfriends geek out on GOT, but with my usual romantic droning, this lowkey a crack fic, yuri "the legs" plisetsky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 05:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11178342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onotherflights/pseuds/onotherflights
Summary: “You cheated on me.” The blonde responded simply.Otabek’s frowned deepened. He tried to recount a time in the past few weeks he'd been in Moscow that he wasn't in close proximity to Yuri. He couldn't name one. He didn't for a moment think Yuri was serious, so he continued playing along.“You caught me, my darling.” He said easily, burying his nose into the dip of Yuri’s back. “I’ll own up to it. I've been having a torrid and passionate love affair with Yakov. He drives me wild with desire.”or, Yuri is mad at Otabek for watching game of thrones without him.





	You know nothing, Otabek Altin

**Author's Note:**

> You, Probably: Marie what the hell is this why are you making them watch GOT
> 
> me: why not tho?
> 
> (This was inspired by real life happenings. My friends and I really fuck with got so hard. I'm on my 3rd rewatch and this happened. It may be really self indulgent but i laughed so hard writing this. Also, there's no actual spoilers for got, unless you count a mention of hella death in the last episode which i mean... that could be any episode tbh.)

It was no secret that Yuri Plisetsky had an amazing pair of legs.

 

They were long and lithe like the rest of him, always pale and graceful, toes pointed out of habit. They were stronger than everyone assumed, and it always shocked people when they saw how flexible he was and how high he could lift one leg and stand on the other like it was nothing.

Yuri had never had much hair below his neck, but he had started to shave the light hair on his legs when he was around sixteen. He loved the feeling of rubbing his bare legs together after a bath, reveling in the silky softness. 

There was someone else who loved Yuri’s legs too.

Otabek had known Yuri was beautiful, all of him, from the first moment he saw him. They were still children then, and he didn't fully comprehend that feeling. He couldn't have predicted they would meet again, and become friends. He couldn't have imagined in his wildest dreams that they would fall in love.

He had no idea he'd be the only one to ever have the honor of feeling Yuri's legs wrapped around his hips. 

With such beautiful legs, Yuri wasn't shy about showing them off, and what he could do with them.

It made Otabek's life all the better and more difficult at the same time.  

It was nothing for Yuri to hook his ankle over Otabek’s shoulder, sometimes he even did it in public. It was also a completely regular occurrence that when Otabek was visiting his apartment in Moscow, Yuri would walk around wearing only an old shirt of Otabek’s hanging long on his small frame, hitting just at his upper thigh so that his legs were on prominent display. Sometimes, he didn't even bother with the shirt and that was even better, or worse depending on how much time they had.  

And sometimes, because Yuri knew the power of his own gorgeous limbs, he used them to his advantage. Playing with Otabek was his favorite game, after all.

 

 

 

 

He was lying on his back in bed at mid-morning on a Sunday, his legs folded at the knees and the taste of chai on his tongue from earlier. Their cat, Mishka, was curled and lying on his stomach, purring as Yuri rubbed his thumb between her ears, his phone in his other hand, scrolling through his social media feed.

Otabek walked into the room, black jeans hugging his thighs and no shirt on. He wore a thin silver chain around his neck, and walked over to the bed with intent. He crawled on top of the sheets on his hands and knees, easily bending down to kiss the tops of Yuri’s feet where they lay flat against the mattress.  

His fingers wandered to circle around two bony ankles, then gently trailed up his legs towards his calves. The older man hummed appreciatively at the softness of the freshly shaven skin under his fingertips, planting a kiss below each of Yuri’s kneecaps. His knees were pressed together, but that didn't stop Otabek from resting his head against them, trying to push them apart with the tip of his nose and what he thought were persuasive kisses. It's a game, of course, thinking that was all it took for Yuri’s grip to slack and his knees to fall to either side of the bed. It would take a little more. 

Yuri only looked up when he felt Otabek rest his head fully on top of Yuri’s knees, looking at him from the other end of the bed with a cute pout.

“Looking for something?” He joked as his eyes fell back to the screen, scrolling and occasionally double-tapping.  

“Just admiring the view.” Otabek murmured, his finger drawing invisible flowers along the blank canvas of Yuri’s left leg.  

At the sound of a new voice, Mishka peered up from her resting place, and she pawed at the hand dangling in front of her.  

“Hi, lovely.” Otabek cooed, stroking the cat’s soft fur.

Yuri pulled Mishka into his arms, a soft sound of protest admitting from her. He gently set her down on the side of the bed and turned onto his stomach to lie down, crossing his ankles and swinging his interlocked feet, hitting Otabek in the chest lightly.

“You're not petting either of us, Altin. I'm pretending to be angry with you.”

Eyebrows furrowing, Otabek chuckled. He lay on his side, fingers affectionately running along the backs of Yuri’s thighs. He was obsessed with Yuri’s legs lately, always wanting his hands on them.  

“It's not very much leverage if you admit to me you're only pretending, kitten.”  

No response from the Russian.  

“What is my crime, anyway?” Otabek wondered, lifting the hem of the shirt Yuri had stolen from him to wear, revealing more supple skin along the curve of his ass. Otabek’s fingers wandered up over the hill, and he pressed a kiss over Yuri’s tailbone.

“You cheated on me.” The blonde responded simply.  

Otabek’s frowned deepened. He tried to recount a time in the past few weeks he'd been in Moscow that he wasn't in close proximity to Yuri. He couldn't name one. He didn't for a moment think Yuri was serious, so he continued playing along. 

“You caught me, my darling.” He said easily, burying his nose into the dip of Yuri’s back. “I’ll own up to it. I've been having a torrid and passionate love affair with Yakov. He drives me wild with desire.”

Yuri scoffed, and Otabek trailed his kisses back down. He thought he'd gotten him to falter when his legs dropped, but no sooner were his feet on the bed that he was turning over, pushing Otabek onto his back and straddling the Kazakh man’s bare stomach, his hands on either side of Otabek’s face as he loomed over him.  

“I meant last night, мудак.”  

Otabek looked up at him, his hands gently stroking pale thighs. He couldn't just _not_ touch Yuri.

“Before or after I fell asleep still inside you? Because if it was after, I have questions.”

Yuri narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why don't you check the TV queue and see, traitor.”

There was a moment of silence between them as Otabek connected the invisible dots. Once he realized, his eyes widened, and Yuri smirked like he'd just called “checkmate”.

“I didn't watch the whole thing, Yura, I swear.” He rushed quickly to recover. “I just put it on as background noise to fall back asleep. I know when we watch it again it'll be like I'm just seeing it.” 

Yuri shook his head. “You know nothing, Otabek Altin.”  

Otabek bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing. Of course Yuri would be upset about him watching an episode of their show, a show they'd been binge watching together over using a screen share site for months, devouring the six seasons in small doses. The plan was to watch the latest season together when Otabek came to visit, and they had, except for the very last episode. They only had one fucking episode left, _one_. And just like when he was getting head, Otabek couldn't wait. Yuri hadn't felt so betrayed since the red wedding.

“I'll watch it over again now if you like.”

Yuri gave an exasperated sigh,  turning his head away. “That's not the point, you've ruined game of thrones and chill.”

Otabek wanted to argue that there wasn't much chill involved when Yuri would punch the pause button on the remote every time something bad happened to yell at the TV, ranting in Russian so quickly Otabek sometimes thought maybe his boyfriend had learned a third language in his down time. He wouldn't be surprised one ounce if that language was dothraki.

 Taking advantage of the position, Otabek dipped his head to kiss Yuri’s neck, trying to persuade him. “If you forgive me, I'll let you do anything you want to me after the episode.”

That seemed to interest Yuri, who turned his head with a coy smirk. “Anything I want?”  

“For twenty minutes,” Otabek clarified quickly. “For every minute I watched without you.”

 Yuri rolled his eyes, displeased with the added condition. “Fine.”

He rolled off of Otabek and stood up to walk towards the kitchen, pulling his long hair into a messy bun and digging through the pantry for popcorn kernels to pop on the stovetop. Otabek could hear him grumbling to himself from his place on their bed, and he smirked, knowing all too much.

“What could possibly happen in only twenty minutes, anyway?”

 

 

 

Apparently, everything could happen in only twenty minutes. Onscreen, Cersei Lannister was paused in a still frame, holding a chalice of red wine to her lips with pleasure radiating from her face. Otabek matched her, savoring his own glass of port. Around him, the room was utter and complete chaos.

Yuri had flipped the bowl of popcorn over, the plastic clattering to the ground to accompany the onscreen explosion. Otabek already had his finger on the pause button, anticipating the reaction. Now Yuri was up and pacing, holding Mishka in his arms to prevent her from eating off the floor.

“What the _actual fuck_ , Beka?” He was yelling, the anger turning his cheeks red. Otabek would never say it aloud, but he was so adorable when he was genuinely angry. “Why didn't you warn me?”

 He knew better than to try to answer that, so he just picked up an abandoned piece of popcorn off the top of the bed and tossed it into his mouth.

“They didn't _all_ have to die.”

“Mmhm.” Otabek agreed, tipping his head back and downing the rest of his drink. He startled at a sudden but familiar weight on his lap.

“You knew it was going to happen. You knew she would do it.” Yuri pouted.

“I thought you said I knew nothing.”

Yuri nipped at his bottom lip in retaliation and poured more wine, staying curled in Otabek’s lap.

“Just press play so we can watch everyone else I love die.”

 

 

 

By the end of the episode, Yuri had moved around the room in a circle. He'd gotten up from Otabek’s lap, walked around yelling some more, cleaned all the popcorn while talking to himself, threw a pillow against the wall, laid on the floor, and then crawled back up to their bed.  

The “behind the scenes” video was playing on the screen, and Yuri was laying with his head under a pillow.  

“Are you alright, Yura?” Otabek asked gently.  

“I don't know if I will ever be okay again.” Yuri responded, the sound muffled by the pillow. “I don't know whether to be pumped up or cry.”

Crawling over to where Yuri was curled up, Otabek reached out a hand and brushed back loose strands of blonde silk. “I did promise you anything for twenty minutes, that should cheer you up.”

Slowly, the way a flower would unfold its petals, Yuri sat up and tucked his hair behind his ears. He looked up at Otabek meekly. “You promise you won’t laugh? You need to take it seriously this time, please _Otya._ ”  

How unfair. Yuri knew that particular pet name reduced him to mush. Yuri already knew how to use his physical attributes to bend Otabek to his will, but this was just a new level. He was already scooting off the edge of the bed, walking towards the large closet. 

“Alright, I’ll go put on the wig. When I get back, be naked.”

 

 

 

Far longer than twenty minutes later, Yuri lay sated and bare against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling with panting breath.

“Great _fuck_.” He murmured to himself, feeling the burning flush of his cheek against the back of his hand when he covered his face. He was always embarrassed by how red and blotchy his skin got, and the embarrassment only made things worse probably. In the recovery period, Yuri always needed more time to, well, recover. He ached and felt weightless in the most pleasant way, his long legs useless where they were still spread open suggestively.  

“Mmhhm.” Otabek hummed in agreement, quick to lather him in affection. He turned onto his side, pulling Yuri back into his arms. It was so hot, and he felt gross and sticky where his come was drying on his stomach, but he didn’t deny a soft press of Otabek’s lips against his own. He opened his mouth in the kiss, and buried his fingers into dark hair. It was soft, but not as soft as Otabek’s real hair in the morning. His fingers crept down as they kissed, a passionate press of skin as his nails dragged lower, past where the line of his undercut usually gave way to short buzzed hair. Only now, it just continued, thick and longer than Yuri’s, held loosely by several golden bands.

“Can I take this ridiculous thing off now, my love?” Otabek asked humorously when they parted, itching at the hairline.  

Biting his kiss-swollen bottom lip, Yuri shook his head. “I still think you look so sexy with it on.” 

He curled the long hair around his fist, pulling at it lightly. It didn’t budge. Maybe one day Yuri could convince him to wear a full cosplay of Khal Drogo. It would be useless to put it all on though, he supposed, because he would jump on him the minute the fantasy became reality.

“Otabek Altin, the undefeated hero Kahl of Kazakhstan. Nice ring to it, hmm?”

In reply, Otabek scrunched his nose up, making Yuri emit a rare, private laugh just from a simple expression. The flash of pointed teeth and the pink cheeks made for a lovely rose of a man.

“A bit unrealistic.” He quipped, and sat up to carefully pull the wig off, shaking out his natural hair much to Yuri’s whine of protest. “Until next time, that is.”

Yuri’s eyebrow quirked up, and Otabek kissed over them. Yuri turned over in his arms, and Otabek obligingly pressed his chest to the soft, pale skin of Yuri’s back. Their legs tangled naturally, and Yuri could feel the soft breathing pushing back in time with his own.

“Hey Beka?”

There was only a questioning grunt as a reply.

“Well,” He wondered aloud with a heavy sigh. It was really something to consider, something serious. “What are we going to binge watch next?”

 

 

* * *

 

Sometime past midnight, Otabek woke up. The TV had gone to some sort of infomercial channel, and he quickly scrambled to find the remote where it had been lost in the sheets. He clicked the device off, his eyes squinting in the moonlight. He turned back onto his stomach, intending to go immediately back to sleep, but a strip of blue caught his eye.

It was Yuri, lying naked on his side facing him. He was gorgeous in the luminescence of the moon. His hair, tousled all over and laying each way. His body, lithe and long and like the clearest sky. Those long legs, the legs that could crumble nations if they weren’t so busy gliding along ice. They could reduce men to ash, if only they weren’t so busy being entangled with his own.  

Otabek settled down again, his cheek pressed into the fluff of his pillow. He kept facing Yuri, watching him breathe, watching the fan above them gently blow his golden hair. Only, in this light, it almost looked white.

He reached his fingertips out again, his touch gentle and not meant to disturb as his fingers danced along Yuri’s thigh, his hip, the small of his back. Then, they rested in the valley, and stayed there for the rest of the night. Otabek murmured a few words softly as his eyes closed again, quiet and still as the night.

“ _Jalan atthirari anni._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't play with me for a second that Otabek wouldn't make a badass Khal. You're thinking about it now. You're welcome.
> 
>  
> 
> jalan atthirari anni = moon of my life (it has a feminine context but...w/e)
> 
>  
> 
> Please visit me on tumblr @onotherflights to see what else i'm up to!


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